Famous Last Words
by lwbush
Summary: The end, at last. This new chapter is part six of a six story series that was previously posted seperately.
1. Default Chapter

Famous Last Words  
  
By Lori Bush  
  
~**~  
  
Feedback: lwbush@charter.net  
  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.  
  
Summary: Xander's thoughts during a bad situation.  
  
Pairing: A/X - sort of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, I was in a dark mood, and even a little angry. I still love the show, but I do feel like there's a pit being dug from which there is no way out. I could more easily envision Buffy's return from death than I can her coming back from the depths to which she's currently sinking. So out this came.  
  
After I finished it, I saw the possibility of more. So it gave birth to a sequel, already written. Then I felt that story was still open-ended, so it's spawning a series - The "Words" series. More to come.  
  
Dedication: To Jen (Saturn Girl) at the Dead Xander list, 'cos she got me thinking about it in the first place.  
  
~**~  
  
It's ironic, I think. I mean, I always knew a demon would kill me, and I'm still surprised by this. I could see every danger that ever threatened "my girls," but couldn't see the one that was gunning for *me*. It's just a matter of time, now.  
  
Damn - tried the chains again, and they're just as secure as they were the last dozen or more times. Besides, struggling like that against the broken arm was what caused the pain and made me pass out earlier. Huh - after all the broken bones I've had, they just don't get any easier to endure, do they?  
  
And chained to my own dining table, too. It had such good memories before. I remember many a breakfast here with Anya. Singing our fears to each other when that screwy demon had us all pouring out our hearts in song. That night we. God, I loved this table. But no amount of sexcapades could redeem it now. Not that I think I'm gonna live to get a new table once this is over. Reminds me, though. "What did you do with Anya?" I demand, and like the last hundred or so times, the demon just ignores me.  
  
I can't open my left eye anymore. I'm not even sure it's still in the socket. There's the broken arm. I can't feel a hell of a lot, but I do feel the blood seeping from the gashes on my chest. Not that I was ever pretty, but I'm fairly sure I look like shit-on-a-stick now. It's not like anyone will see me - there's nobody left to save me. All the times someone came crashing in at the last minute and pulled my fat out of the fire - not happening here. They're all gone.  
  
Buffy is gone. Not physically - she's probably not too far away, her resurrected, pulled-from-heaven-by-her-selfish friends body still walking around Sunnydale. But that body doesn't hold our Buffy - my Buffy - anymore. We did so much damage she may never heal, emotionally. Her psyche probably looks about like my body right now. Shredded beyond recognition. Why else would she be with Spike? Not like I'm one to talk - Anya was once just as bad as he is. I like to think my love changed her, though, and made her a real person. But Buffy doesn't love Spike, I'm pretty sure. He's just a place to run away to. I hope he doesn't kill her - again. At least this time, she might get the rest she so desperately wants. The rest we stole from her. Rest I think I'll soon get to find out about.  
  
Willow. God, I don't know who she is anymore, either. Her anger at Tara, her indiscriminate use of magic - that's why I'm here, now. I'm pretty sure that this demon is here thanks to her summoning it. Willow won't save me. In fact, I think it's Willow who needs saving. Or that people need to be saved from. All the things that are going on, and I find myself wishing I could get free not for my own health, but for Tara. This demon was meant for her, not me. I just got caught in the crossfire. She's the next in line, and I just want to protect her, too. She's become one of "my girls."  
  
I just realized - I thought earlier that I could see every danger that threatened my girls, but I couldn't. I didn't see any of this coming. I didn't see Willow going off the deep end, and losing it all, taking Tara down with her. I didn't see Buffy hollowing out, didn't see the danger in us bringing her back, even though I had protested. My objections would have been insurmountable if I'd seen this coming. I never thought I could lose Anya, but I'm pretty certain she's gone. I see Dawn slipping into darkness now, too. It's funny how clear your perspective becomes when you know you're gonna die.  
  
I'd pray, but the last god I met sort of turned me off of deities. I wish Giles was still around, but I doubt he'll come flying in from England to rescue the one member of the Scooby Gang he'd probably not mind too much seeing dead. My options have pretty much run out.  
  
Anya always loved that knife - she bought it from some late night TV ad that promised it would never need to be sharpened. It still looks pretty sharp as the demon holds it over my chest, and I know with startling clarity that my heart is about to be carved out. "Yesss," the demon growls in its deep scratchy voice, "The heart was the problem, so we'll remove it."  
  
"I want to talk to Anya one last time," I demand, with as much strength as I can force past the lump in my throat.  
  
That humorless laugh twists through my gut. "She doesn't exist. She never did. You were deceived, and you deceived her in turn. You couldn't love her enough." Funny, as awful as that face is, it looks worse when it scowls. "Love is never enough."  
  
Why fight the tears? It isn't as if anyone will know, or care that I wept as I died. "I truly did love her. I'm sorry I couldn't do it better." As the knife descends to finish me, I can't scream through the sobs, but I can choke out one last word, my killer's name. "Anyanka."  
  
~**~ 


	2. Word To The Wise

Word To The Wise "Words" Series, #2  
  
By Lori Bush  
  
Feedback: lwbush@charter.net  
  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.  
  
Summary: Buffy POV on the current events.  
  
Pairing: A/X, B/S - sort of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Continuity: Through "Once More, With Feeling" plus slight spoilers of what's next.  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, I was in a dark mood, and even a little angry. I still love the show, but I do feel like there's a pit being dug from which there is no way out. I could more easily envision Buffy's return from death than I can her coming back from the depths to which she's currently sinking. This is the follow up to my original knee-jerk reaction piece.  
  
This is the sequel to "Famous Last Words." It might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read that one, since some things that aren't exactly fleshed out here are explained there. The next story is still under construction.  
  
Dedication: To Jen (Saturn Girl) at the Dead Xander list, 'cos she got me thinking about it in the first place. And Saffi, since he asked nicely.  
  
~**~  
  
When I told Spike, right after I'd returned from the dead, that this was hell, I didn't know the half of it. Things were better then.  
  
Since then the gang managed to find out that they'd taken me from heaven, and each of them reacted badly. Giles ran. He turned tail and left, went back to England, dumped me on my ass and told me it was for my own good. And he didn't even take part in the spell that brought me back. Maybe he felt guilty for not figuring out what they were doing, and stopping them.  
  
Dawn got arrested for shoplifting last week. I managed to get her released, but we have to be in court in a month or so. She was sullen and hostile, and I don't think we've spoken six words since she got home from the police station. And, you know, I do care, but I have no idea how to deal with it, so I haven't made a whole lot of effort. My bad, I guess.  
  
Willow's gotten scary. She's all bitchy and domineering with Tara, and Tara looks afraid all the time. I think she's used some kind of threat to keep her in line, to keep her from leaving. I can see it in Tara's eyes, though - she wants to bolt and run. She nearly did, too, I think, before the news about Xander. Since then, her expression has been haunted, and she's been even paler than usual. I wonder what Willow said or did to make her like that.  
  
Xander. Oh, God. I still can't even think his name without going colder still. I was the one who found him, you know. Or what was left of him. His body was chained to the table in his apartment, bits of him removed and scattered around the place. I threw up, and I don't have a weak stomach. But, dear God, it was so horrible. There was no sign of Anya, and no one has heard from her since.  
  
Before he died, I could see that he was taking it hard. Somehow he regretted his happiness with Anya, like he wasn't due that, if I was suffering. That's Xander for you - he feels everything more than the rest of us, of them, then he does his best to hide it. I guess that should all be in the past tense, huh? And that one thing, that awful thing, his death by torture, broke through the cold that's enveloped me since I returned, and made me feel again - screaming, wrenching pain. He was always there for me, and I should have been there for him. If we'd still been close like we once were, I would have been able to stop what happened. I could've saved him. But I was too busy being wrapped in my private hell to see the hell of others, and Xander paid for my self-absorption with his life. I'm sure he's gone to heaven. If I did, how much more someone who gave his all without the threat of destiny, who fought the badness just because it was the right thing to do? I miss him, now, even though I've spent the last several years pushing him away from me. I just never thought he'd really go that far. So far he'd never be back.  
  
I stopped feeling again after the funeral. Hey, he was in a better place. I'd been too late to save him - just as I had with my mother, and almost was with Dawn. I crawled back to Spike's crypt, to sleep with the Evil Dead, as Xander would have called him, so I could go numb again. If pain was the only feeling I could access, why bother feeling? It's ironic that the first time I kissed Spike, I said I wanted to feel. That was my excuse for doing it. But I didn't, and I don't, so why did I continue? With Spike, feelings aren't needed.  
  
Oh, I don't say Spike doesn't want me to feel. He wants me to feel this sweeping love, this grand passion for him that he seems to have for me. He wants me to feel anger, so he can sway me to play with him on the dark side of the jungle gym. He doesn't realize that if I *could* feel again, all I'd ever feel for him would be revulsion. So I just shut it all down, sleep with him because it seems symbolic of who I am now - a great moral cipher. The champion for good who's stupid enough to sleep with an unrepentant killer while pushing away the only people who ever cared for her at the same time. If this *is* indeed hell, I've certainly taken part in shaping it into its present form. And like it is with everything else, I don't really care anymore.  
  
Funny, isn't it, that the one thing that made me feel was the death of the only man I've never allowed myself to feel for the same way he felt for me.  
  
Giles loved me like a father - more than my real father, and I loved him back with the same depth and devotion. I honestly do believe he thinks leaving me behind so I would grow up was the best thing, even if I disagree with him.  
  
Angel loved me with all the sweeping majesty required by star-crossed lovers. We were a tragedy always about to happen, sometimes actually happening, and he was everything my teenaged fantasies wanted, and sometimes quite a bit more than they'd envisioned. But I loved him back with that same storybook intensity, with a blind eye to reality, which still won in the end, inevitably ripping us apart.  
  
Riley was good, and clean and all-American, and he loved me simply and with little reservation, at least at first. And I - I didn't return the favor, but I did try. I wanted so to love him the way he loved me, but in the end, I just couldn't. And I was deeply sorry for that. He deserved better. But at least with Riley, I was willing to try.  
  
With Xander, I never gave it a shot. I knew early on that he was in love with me, and that he would throw himself in front of anything if he thought it might hurt me. Maybe that was why I refused to consider loving him back. Maybe that's when I started down the path to where I am now. I wouldn't feel that for him, because I knew if I loved him back, he'd die trying to prove his love to me. But I never let him, and he died anyway.  
  
So here I lay, in Spike's bed, trying to decide if living is worth the effort anymore. I wonder if, when it comes to dying, the third time's the charm. I think Spike's asleep - it's hard to tell, since he doesn't breathe and all. I could get up, wander away, and no one would be any the wiser. Although, if they wouldn't let me finalize a dramatic self-sacrifice by leaving me in heaven, why would they just let me disappear? With my luck, I'd go back to heaven again, and they'd rip me back out. I don't think I could handle that a second time. Not that I'm doing too well with it this time.  
  
Maybe it's because I'm thinking about it, but my body starts feeling odd, the way it did when my spirit re-entered it when I was pulled from heaven. It's like this great huge sucking feeling, pulling all the air and color out of the world. I can't breathe. I can't open my eyes. I'm scared. It's just like it was before, and I wonder if I'll wake up in my coffin again, have to claw my way out, and get a second chance at making everything right. I sort of hope so, but that would be a good thing, and they don't seem to happen to me much anymore.  
  
I'm back now. Or at least, I feel my spirit and my body are connected again - I don't know that I really went anywhere. My eyes are still closed, and I hear a murmuring chant, a voice that sounds like Willow's. My eyes fly open.  
  
"It worked," I hear someone say with relief, "but where's Xander?"  
  
My focus is fuzzy, but as my eyesight clears, I see Willow and Tara, holding hands, smiling widely at each other. The haunted look Tara's been wearing is totally gone. And Giles - Giles is here, it was his voice I heard, and Anya is clutching his hand, looking anxious. And over to the side is Dawn, with Spike hovering protectively over her, not touching her, but fiercely guarding her personal space. I blink a few times. "Where's - Xander?" He's dead - don't they know that?  
  
My voice sounds rough, like I haven't used it for months. As I become more aware, I realize I'm on a small bed in a tiny room. It's not familiar, although I do see some things that look as if they came from the Magic Box's stock lying nearby. There's a single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.  
  
"He went to get you, to bring you back. H-h-he thought your spirit might need a guide," Tara said quietly. "W-w-we thought he'd come back with you." She looked helplessly at Giles, and I saw Anya clutch even tighter.  
  
Willow's forehead wrinkled in deep thought. "The spell must have been too finely tuned to Buffy's spirit. If he wasn't close by her, he got left behind. We'll have to do the ritual again to get him, too."  
  
Thoroughly confused, now. "Where am I? What's going on?"  
  
Dawn is beside me, on her knees by the bed. There are tears in her eyes, and I can see the look of devotion Spike is giving her, the affection in his gaze. "Don't you remember jumping off the tower, to save me from Glory?" I nod - like I could forget that. "We knew something was weird when your body landed without a mark on it, so Willow and Tara tracked your spirit, and found out where you were." No they didn't - they never checked, they just assumed, and pulled me from the peace I'd earned. Back to a place that was far worse then it had been when I left. They brought me back from heaven to.  
  
Giles' voice was like a slap in my face, and yet confirmed my very next thought. "Buffy, we just brought you back from Hell." 


	3. Truer Words Never Spoken

Truer Words Never Spoken  
  
By Lori Bush  
  
~**~  
  
Feedback: lwbush@charter.net  
  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.  
  
Summary: Xander went to Hell to find Buffy. Here's his POV on what he did find.  
  
Pairing: B/S - sort of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Continuity: Through "Once More, With Feeling" plus slight spoilers of what's next.  
  
Author's Notes: This has been done for a while, but you know how Life goes.  
  
This is the sequel to "Famous Last Words," and "Word To The Wise." It might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read them, since some things that aren't exactly fleshed out here are explained there. The next story may be a while.  
  
I don't think anyone gets bashed here, except the entire Season Six storyline, so far. Willow's not real nice.  
  
Dedication: Still for Jen (Saturn Girl), since she so likes to see DeadXander.  
  
~**~  
  
My first thought when I arrived here was that I shouldn't be surprised that Hell looked so much like Sunnydale. It's not like they sit too far apart, cosmically speaking.  
  
My second thought was that I needed to find Buffy and get out, before I found out how much worse than the real thing this place could be.  
  
My third thought was - Did I just walk right through that signpost?  
  
I walked back, and tried again. I sure did - passed through without a scratch. Weird. It seemed that I was only sort of here. Which, if this was really Hell, probably wasn't such a bad thing.  
  
When I'd insisted on coming to bring Buffy back, everyone had objected. Giles had pointed out my lack of fighting skills - not that, he assured me, he thought me helpless, but God alone knew what I might be up against here.  
  
Tara was afraid my spirit might become warped, entering Hell voluntarily and all. That led to brief expository moment, where Giles, Willow, Dawn and I took turns explaining about Buffy's previous visit to Hell (or a Hell dimension, which, now that I'm here, I think there may be more than one of, since it's nothing like she described, or what Angel dropped a couple of hints and then went all cryptic about).  
  
Willow was afraid that it might be better if someone with magical power went, until Giles reminded her that someone with magical power might set off some kind of alarm system, thwarting their ability to sneak in and back out with Buffy in tow. Or it was possible that Hell might dampen magical powers, in which case, my physical size would give me some strength advantage over her or Tara. (Gotta love the way he can damn me with faint praise, doncha?)  
  
Spike, we all agreed, was dead. He couldn't go. You don't send the dead to Hell and really expect them to come back - it was already sufficiently against natural law that he was still walking around, but vampires are differently dead. Heh - that makes it almost sound politically correct. Angel always was an exception to a lot of the vampire rules, so we didn't even consider him as precedent. Anyway, Dawn needed Spike. He was almost all she had left now Buffy was gone, although we all loved her like she was our own and she knew it. She still clung to Spike, and he was pretty much the big brother with fangs and teeth that you always hoped your new crush didn't have. At least, you hoped that if you lived in Sunnydale.  
  
Giles tried again to argue that he should go, with his superior fighting skills and all (*he* thinks - geez) but I shut him down. From the moment we began discussing the plan, I knew I was coming here to bring Buffy back. Only Anya didn't fight me on it, because she'd known my plans for a long time. I wish my *last* ex-girlfriend had been nearly so supportive after we broke up.  
  
Still, I have to admit, being here and all walking-through-solid-objects like, I wouldn't mind a little of Giles' arcane knowledge about now. If this is literally Sunny-Hell, though, I wonder if they have a Giles and a Magic Box here, too. I guess there's only one way to find out. I head that way.  
  
Everything here *looks* the same. There's the Sun, and the ice-cream shop. And there, just like home, is the Magic Box. I try to open the door, but my hand passes right through the doorknob, so I shrug and just walk inside anyway. This could come in handy sometimes. I woulda loved it in high school.  
  
Hmmph. Anya and the G-man must be out or in the back or something, 'cos Willow and Tara are at the helm here. It seems I'm the only customer right now, too. "Hey," I wave, trying to act casual. Maybe there's another Xander in this Sunnydale, and he can walk through solid doors, too. No need to advertise that I'm not from this dimension.  
  
They're ignoring me. Tara's crying. "You know what you did was wrong. She killed him, and you don't even seem to care anymore."  
  
Jesus, that expression Willow has on is *scary.* "Shut up, bitch. She named him as her price to help me keep you in line. Apparently, Anyanka still has issues with men. She promised not to kill you, but you might wish she had, if you act out again." I've never heard my best friend snarl before.  
  
I can't help myself - my mouth always has acted independent of my brain, and I'm not thinking about how this scary Willow, who could summon a long- gone demon and had apparently done so to keep her girlfriend from talking back, could hurt me, too. "Willow, did you use the talisman? Anya told me about it, so I know how D'Hoffryn wanted you to work with him." I've gotta talk her down - I could always get through to my Willow, this one can't be that different. "I mean, I know you're not all that into guys yourself, but with the spirit of Anyanka in ya. Oh, God, Will this is so not you! I can go get Anya, we can find a way to destroy the power source - you can't do this!" I'm screaming the last few words - how can they still be ignoring me?  
  
But I can't take time to figure that out, since the door just slammed open, and Dawn came in. She's dressed sloppily, and obviously has a serious attitude. "Queen Slayer and my juvie officer both seem to think I need to check in with somebody after school each day, so here I am. Feel free to ignore me and look down on me - it'll make me feel right at home." And they do. They don't even seem to notice she's there, although I do finally catch Tara giving her a shy smile that Dawn misses entirely, since she's buried her nose in a schoolbook.  
  
I consider pulling out a chair and sitting down with the Dawnster, but I quickly remember the futility of trying *that*. So I stroll over and squat down beside her. "Will I do? You used to like getting my full and total attention."  
  
And she ignores me, too. What'd I do? Either the Xander Harris here is a bigger jerk then I've ever known, or they can't see or hear me, and either way, I want to know why. Because if *they* can't or won't hear me, then Buffy might not, either, and I'm gonna have to find another way to let her know we're trying to get her home. If I'm a jackass - 'scuse me, a bigger jackass than I sometimes manage to be when I do stuff without thinking first - here, then she might not take me seriously. I try again. "Dawn?" I don't think she can hear me. Shit.  
  
This changes everything. I'm nobody here - no one can see or hear me, and Buffy might not be able to either. I know Willow was going to give me a little while, then try and bring her back. My job was to warn her and stay with her until the spell went through, and I'd be drawn back with her, since I originated from there, not here, just like her. I wonder - her body stayed behind, not aging, not decaying, not breathing. It was part of what Willow said would draw Buffy back to our dimension. Where's mine? Still there, or lost in the ether someplace? One of those details I kinda wish I'd asked about beforehand.  
  
This reminds me of that Halloween the Fear Demon made me think I was invisible, and I shudder involuntarily. One of my worst nightmares, but one I thought I'd left behind lately. Now it's happening here - and the first point on the scoreboard goes to Hell. Since I can't figure out what to do next, I go back to eavesdropping on Wills and Tara.  
  
"She probably sent her to us so she could go be with Spike. Ever since she admitted we pulled her from heaven, she's spent all her time there. She could at least show some gratitude that I tried to bring her back from Hell, even if I was wrong about where she was." Good Lord, this Willow is a whiney person. And - pulled her from heaven? Who? Buffy? No way. If that's what Buffy came here thinking, this place was even more hellacious for her. Gotta find her. I step outside.  
  
Where first? I'll try her house. I really can't believe she'd sink low enough to spend her free time with Spike. Even though he's improved these past few months, his devotion to Dawn being the main point in his favor, I know that after the whole Buffy-bot thing, the Slayer was pretty freaked by him for a while. Besides, she has other, real friends she can turn to, none of which have ever tried to kill her, even once. Although this scary Willow here, she could have, I guess. But there's still me, and An, and Giles, and. Well, Dawn didn't seem too cheer inducing, from what I saw of her. Certainly not the little ray of sunshine I know. But still, if Buffy's unhappy here, which I'm thinking is the whole point of her being here in Hell and all, she's at least got others she can rely on. Okay, she and An haven't ever been close, but that still leaves me and Giles. Wonder if Joyce is still alive in this dimension? Probably not - that would make at least one thing less Hell-like for Buffy here.  
  
Here we are - I scoff at locks! It's odd - I've already stopped marveling at walking through walls. Buffy's not on the main level. Not in the basement - she's got new piping down there, though. Dawn's room upstairs looks the same, and so does Buffy's, pretty much. She's not in either one. Hmm - from the photos, stuffed animals and magic books and supplies, I'd say Wills and Tara have moved into the master bedroom here. Weirdness again. That's Giles' room, back home. No Buffy anywhere, though.  
  
It's not a long walk over to my own apartment, and I admit to being curious as to what the me that lives in this dimension is like. Is he still together with Anya? Does he work construction? It's too tempting not to peek inside his life.  
  
When I get to the apartment door, I see yellow "Crime Scene - Do Not Enter" tape strapped across it. I've got a bad feeling about this. Of course, I don't even disturb the stuff as I walk through it.  
  
There's blood - lots and lots of it. It's dried all over the dining table, and down around the edges on the floor, where it ran off and pooled. I can only hope a goat was ritually sacrificed here, 'cos otherwise, somebody probably died in my dining area, and that's not a warm and cozy feeling. They could have lived and been taken to the hospital, I suppose, but the only way anyone could lose that much blood and still be walking around, I'm thinking, is for them to develop 'sunlight allergies.' And if that were the case, the 'carrier' wouldn't have wasted their dinner this way. There are splotches of more blood scattered around the room, but I'm not sure I want to stay and examine them. In fact, I'm sure I don't. I'm gone.  
  
I may slip through stuff, but my stomach sure feels solid as I stop outside to get a grip. Can apparitions vomit? I may be about to find out. Deep breath in. Whew. Exhale. Better, now. The tears in my eyes are real enough, it seems. Somebody was killed there. In my apartment. Chances are it was me, or the me that's me here. Or maybe Anya, which is worse. Just because she broke our engagement doesn't mean I want her gone. In fact, we still get along great - I wouldn't want her gone anyway. But if we're still engaged here.  
  
I'm going back to the Magic Box. If Buffy's in Spike's crypt, it would be one more shock than I could handle right about now. And the shop would be the most likely place for me to find out about what happened here, too. God, I never thought I'd need so badly to talk to the stuffy English guy, but I could kiss Giles if I saw him right now. He'd know, have some idea.  
  
I slide inside, noticing that Tara is the only one up front now. She looks so terrified - twitching nervously and checking over her shoulder all the time. She's always been a bit on the timid side, but now she looks like the sound of a strong wind outside might cause her to jump out of her skin. I want to help her so much, but I know I can't, and it's like a knife in my gut.  
  
I head back into the bookshelves, looking for something that can help me figure out what's happening here. Not like I could do much - I can't pick up the volumes or turn the pages. Still, I'm carefully studying the spines, so carefully, I don't notice that I'm about to run into someone who's standing very still, listening for something. "Ooops," I cry, and jump back. Funny thing is, he jumps back, too, like he's seen me. I've walked right through a couple of people on the street, especially on the way back here after seeing the carnage in my apartment, and they never noticed. How come this guy jumped? He looks up, and I know he sees me. "Spike," I hiss.  
  
He's rarely looked shocked, but if I had to place a name on his expression, I'd give it that one. "What the bloody hell? You're dead."  
  
"No, that would be you," I sneer. I'm a bit snarkier than usual, what with the bloodstained version of interior decorating at my place and all.  
  
"I saw ya. Or what there was left. That demon chippy of yours did nice work. A real artist." He stares at me while I know incomprehension dances across my face. Finally he throws his hands in the air. "Blimey, another brain-dead apparition. Death's so traumatic, they block it out and spend the rest of eternity wandering around wondering why nobody talks to them anymore. I've met enough ghosts in me time to 'ave seen it before. They're boring as hell."  
  
Wait a minute. Dead. He says I'm dead. Demon chippy? Anya? Willow mentioned Anyanka.  
  
Suddenly there are these memories, flooding my brain. Sight, sound, glorious Technicolor. Anya morphing into her demon face, and that - thing - telling me I'd pay for my disloyalty. I'd have to pay for making her forget that men were scum, and then reminding her by being afraid to announce our engagement. Anyanka screaming that Anya knew I wanted Buffy, and I always had, and that was why I didn't want to tell her we were engaged. I can feel the cold of the chains; hear the snap of my arm breaking. I smell the vomit from my response to her ripping out my eyeball. And I try to tell myself this never really happened, but it feels so real. Every memory is as vivid and agonizing as if I were really there, or maybe I'm there right now and it's happening to me. Finally I find out one new thing - a ghost can pass out.  
  
I claw my way back to consciousness, dizzy and breathless. Spike's standing nearby, and notices me stirring. "I din' know ghosts could faint," he observes disinterestedly, echoing my last thought before it happened. "It's been a laugh, standin' here and watchin' people walk through you, though."  
  
"You could have dragged me out of the middle of the aisle," I complain, sitting up and brushing the non-existent dust off my clothes.  
  
He shrugged. "Tried. Seems I can see and hear you, but I can't touch you - my hands pass right through."  
  
"Why *can* you see me, anyway? Nobody else can, apparently."  
  
"I think it's a dead thing. I've met lotsa ghosts in my time." He tries to look casual again, but I can tell his next statement is important to him. "You hadn't seen the Slayer in yer travels about here, 'ave you?"  
  
She's not with him. Thank you God, she's not with him. He's continuing, unaware of my silent prayer. "I woke up, an' she'd disappeared. I've been listenin' to Red the Wicked and her shadow to see if they had a clue where she'd gone, but so far, no." He woke up - she'd been sleeping there. Last straw.  
  
This isn't real, I don't belong here. No - I'm dead, and my ex-girlfriend killed me. Actually, my fiancée. She's gone back to being a demon, which breaks my heart, because she was finally getting better at being human. The people I love are all in trouble - Buffy's repeating every mistake she ever made in her relationship with Angel, although this time, she chose a vamp that didn't have a soul to lose from the start. Willow's become some kind of evil magic girl. Tara's beaten down to a mere shell. Dawn obviously has problems, too. All my girls are suffering, and I can't touch them, or talk to them about it, or help them in any way. And if Buffy is gone already, I may be stuck here forever, watching them suffer.  
  
And this is just my first day in Hell. I can hardly wait. 


	4. The Words We Never Said

The Words We Never Said "Words" Series, #4  
  
By Lori Bush  
  
~**~  
  
Feedback: lwbush@charter.net  
  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.  
  
Summary: Buffy POV on being back in the real world.  
  
Pairing: None, to speak of, except maybe W/T and A/G. Hints of B/X, but nothing concrete, here.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Continuity: Through "Once More, With Feeling" plus slight spoilers of what's next.  
  
Author's Notes: I've had this done for a while, but the Harem had suggestions, and I would never ignore their comments. I hope the changes are more appropriate, Duncan and C-Man.  
  
This follows "Famous Last Words," "Word To The Wise," and "Truer Words Never Spoken." It might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read them, since some things that aren't exactly fleshed out here are explained there. The next story will be in Xander's POV again.  
  
Nobody bashed, that I can ascertain.  
  
Dedication: To Jen (Saturn Girl) at the Dead Xander list, 'cos she got me thinking about it in the first place. And of course, the Harem always gets recognition.  
  
~**~  
  
Sometimes it really pisses me off. I mean, I was in hell. Hell - me. I was never in heaven - it was an illusion used by the forces of Hell to make me even more miserable when I got there. I have to wonder, if saving the world, repeatedly and at the cost of my own life - twice - wasn't enough to get me into heaven, what would be?  
  
Still, to be fair, Giles has pointed out that I sort of made the choice, not whoever it is that might normally do so. I did dive into a portal that apparently led straight to hell - do not pass go, do not collect $200 - in order to save Dawn. Where else would I end up? He even expressed surprise that they were able to fool me into thinking I'd ever been in heaven. Admittedly, when he realized how bad that sounded - Why Buffy, why would you think *you'd* be in heaven? - he stammered and apologized. It was just that, he reasoned, if you dove in through the doorway to a hell dimension, it was somewhat crazy to think you'd wind up anywhere else.  
  
Call me crazy - dying for the second time sort of muddled my brain, I guess. Being brought back again, well, it's made me wonder - how could I have ever thought I didn't need my friends? It's just more proof my brain was way muddled.  
  
With twenty-twenty hindsight, I now see how I could have changed the Hell I suffered in. I could have talked to that Willow, and really listened, too. I pushed her farther down the destructive path she'd chosen by not being what a best friend should be - there for her. The Willow here had people to help her through, but the one in Hell was surrounded by discontent and fear, and I was one of her main enablers, since I was so caught up in my own selfish pain, I never saw what she was doing to herself.  
  
I could have taken responsibility for Dawn, and nipped her dangerous bid for attention in the bud. That would have kept Giles in Sunnydale, too, since he'd have seen that the way I need him, as a father and an advisor, was healthy, instead of the way I shucked every responsibility onto his shoulders as I did there. But I lost them both in that awful place, in one move.  
  
I certainly could have turned to any of them instead of Spike. I'm still not ready to deal with that, yet.  
  
And I don't even want to think about Xander. Although lately, Xander is *all* I can think about.  
  
He went there, into Hell, of his own free will, just to bring me back. Not knowing for sure he'd be able to come back with me. And he didn't. And just like the last time he risked his own life to save mine, or should I say the countless times he has, he did it without expecting any thanks or reward.  
  
It worries me that Willow hasn't been able to find the right anchor to bring him back. I was anchored to my own body, but his went with him. He was supposed to hook up with me, and just come along for the ride when I returned, but for whatever reason, he didn't make it. Giles and Willow both insist that I can't go back in, or we'll probably end up playing a round- robin game of "Who's in Hell Now?" before we get both of us back, and I can see their point. But the longer this goes on, the itchier I get to *do something* to rescue him.  
  
When I was there, I mourned his death, and I really don't want to do it again, now that I know he should be alive and here.  
  
Willow tried using Anya first, hoping their long love affair, even though over, would be enough to anchor him to her. It didn't work. Apparently, they broke up not long after I "left," having been engaged for a month or so before Anya gently informed Xander she was sure he wasn't ready for marriage yet, and she wasn't completely certain she was, either. Not long afterwards, she approached Giles, expressing interest in him, romantically. They co-own the Magic Box now, and have been dating for a while. I find that interesting as I look back on the time in that other Sunnydale that Willow made us all forget who we were - how Hell twisted events of the real world to manipulate me the most.  
  
Here, Tara gave Willow an ultimatum about her magic use, taking her to task for using her powers selfishly and, for example, not de-ratting Amy. If Willow was able to steal Tara's brain back from Glory, she reasoned, fixing her high school friend should be a snap. It was, and she did. Willow and Amy and Tara have a coven of three going now, and Giles oversees them. They consult together and with him before using magic for anything, and it's kept them all in control. Similar to, but different from the way it played out where I was.  
  
Tara caught Dawn swiping an amulet from the Magic Box, and confronted her, calling in Xander, Giles and Spike on it. She was sullen and unresponsive at first, but they got her into counseling (using a counselor Giles uncovered who wasn't blind to the supernatural), each of them taking turns going with her. It finally came out that she thought she was a bad person, and bad people did things like steal. When they pressured her as to why she thought she was bad, she admitted she felt she had caused my death, and so she *had* to be evil. She still goes twice a month, but now that I'm back, the counselor feels she can be cut loose before long.  
  
I have been surprised at how devoted Spike has become to Dawn. His chip, it seems, shorted out when Doc threw him from the tower during the fight with Glory. He only realized it when he and Xander had an argument, and he was able to push Xander into the wall without a headache. When Xan realized what had just happened, he immediately ran to Giles and proposed they stake Spike without delay. But ever the voice of reason, Tara reminded them both of how close the vampire was to Dawn, and suggested they try the soul curse, if Spike were willing.  
  
I have to laugh every time I see, in my mind's eye, Giles, Tara and Xander approaching Spike's crypt with enough crosses and Holy Water to start their own parish, to ask him if he'd subject himself to the curse. It seems he'd already reached the same conclusion - his promise to me and his feelings for Dawn meant so much to him, he was willing to suffer the same fate as Angel, if that were the only way. So now we have a new souled vampire on the team, and while there's always the threat of a moment of pure happiness, Spike is Safety Vamp these days - y'know, like the little blunt scissors they give you in pre-school. He still has an edge, but he can't do much damage with it. In part due to his new status, he no longer seems obsessed with bedding me, and after what I recently left behind, I have to say I'm pretty relieved. Tame Spike makes me realize how little the chip really restrained him - he's like an entirely different person now. In fact, he's started going by "William" again. He's not such a bad guy, this way.  
  
So, now that I'm back, Dawn has a bunch of parent figures - unlike the Dawn I left behind, who was either ignored or abandoned by nearly every one of us. How little the differences; how great the changes they wrought. And in every case, Xander was an integral part of what was better. Where there (and even here, before Glory happened), we all pushed him aside, relegating him to the role of "Anya's Man," and "The Normal One," sometimes, "The Construction Guy;" here, after I was gone, he was central to everything that happened, and so much of it went right because he was.  
  
Tara had gone to him before she confronted Willow. He'd shared the fatherly role with Giles and Spike when Dawn needed a man's influence. He'd even helped the witches when they restored Spike's soul. He was just always, quietly, *there* for all of them - and he always had been, for all of us, all along. We had to find a way to get him back so I could finally tell him "thank you" for everything. It was way overdue.  
  
In fact, the only thing that seems wrong with this Sunnydale - the real one - is that Xander is in the other one, and God alone knows what's happening to him there. Giles has theorized that the place I was had been a special hell, constructed specifically so that I personally would suffer the most without suspecting that none of it was real. If that were the case, Xander might get off easy. But when I told him that the Xander in that place was dead, killed by person or persons unknown, my Watcher paled, and didn't offer any explanation for his clenched jaw and deepened frown lines. But Anya, never one to keep any thought to herself, may have hit it on the head. She wondered out loud if, now that I'm gone, Hell has reshaped itself around Xander's soul, since he's now the only being there that's not a construct of my own worst nightmares. I can only hope not, after what I went through.  
  
So we're back to trying to find an anchor that will draw him home. Besides using Anya, the witchy gang have tried doing the ritual in Xander's apartment, his truck, centering on his comic book collection, and Willow even jokingly suggested using Twinkies. So far, no luck. We need to find something with which he's connected enough that it would call to his soul, reach him even across the dimensions.  
  
I feel so bad. I mean, he went there to save me. To save. me. He's always been the one trying to save me - sometimes even from myself. He warned me about Angel before anyone else saw any danger. He brought me back from death the first time, and even went into it to get me this time. He staked Theresa and saved me. He threw himself in front of that splitter ray that was aimed at me. He'd do almost anything for me. Me. I think I'm sensing a pattern here. Where's the phone?  
  
"Willow? Yeah, it's Buffy. I have an idea for an anchor that might bring Xander back, and I need you to get everyone together. I'll meet you all at the Magic Box, soon."  
  
I've been blind and dumb long enough. I want to tell him so much. But first, we have to get him here.  
  
~**~ 


	5. Four Letter Words

Four-Letter Words Part 5 of the "Words" Series By Lori Bush  
  
~**~ Feedback: lwbush@charter.net  
  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.  
  
Summary: Xander's starting to lose track of where he belongs.  
  
Pairing: B/S, but hey - this is set in Hell, after all.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Continuity: Through "Once More, With Feeling" plus slight spoilers of what's next.  
  
Author's Notes: I went to put out the last story, and realized I hadn't put this one out, yet. See what happens when my life gets hectic? I forget stuff.  
  
This follows "Famous Last Words," "Word To The Wise," and "Truer Words Never Spoken," and "The Words We Never Said." It might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read them, since some things that aren't exactly fleshed out here are explained there. The next story will be the last.  
  
Nobody bashed, and everybody bashed. Make sense out of *that*.  
  
Dedication: To Jen (Saturn Girl) at the Dead Xander list, 'cos she got me thinking about it in the first place. And of course, the Harem always gets recognition.  
  
~**~  
  
When we were in third grade, Jesse and I made up a list of all the four- letter words we could think of that were bad. We tried a few of them out on Mrs. Smitherman in the lunchroom, and found out about two we'd left off - Note, and Home. Jesse's parents grounded him until he could drive, later to be reduced to two weeks. My dad beat me with his belt so hard, I couldn't sit all the way back in my chair for quite a while. Kinda funny, too, that he said pretty much every word on our list while doing it, plus a few I hadn't thought of. True, some of them had more than four letters. Like "bastard." I had to peel my shirt off the scabs every night for at least a week, and I still have faint scars. We sort of avoided those words for a while after that.  
  
I should have known, from my experiences with Buffy, that "dead" was one of those kinds of words. One you don't want to say and don't want to hear, for fear someone who can hurt you will overhear it and use it against you. I knew it was bad from the moment I met my first vampire up close - Jesse, oddly enough. Ironic, huh?  
  
It got worse with Joyce - that was the moment everything started to fall apart in a serious way. Buffy began to pull away. Dawn lost her faith in what she was and where she belonged. Not long after, Tara got brain-sucked and Willow started trusting magic more than any of us. Maybe that was even when Giles decided he had to get away, before it got him, too. I dunno. And then Buffy died, again. All I know is that, although Mrs. Smitherman wouldn't have written a note to our parents for saying it, I think "dead" is a worse word than any of the ones Jesse and I thought of.  
  
Maybe 'cos I am, now. Me. I'm dead. And all the times I thought I might end up this way, all the horrible anticipation, couldn't hold a candle to the real experience. It's far worse than I ever imagined it would be, and I have a very vivid imagination.  
  
Sometimes, if I concentrate real hard, I seem to remember that I don't really belong here. There's another world somewhere, another Sunnydale, where my friends are happy, I have a good life, accent on the "life" part, and hope still lives. But the longer I'm like this - all ghostly and dead and watching my friends implode while I'm helpless to do anything - the harder it gets to think about that. Sometimes I'm sure it was all a dream, and it never really happened that way. And because it was a dream, the longer I'm like this, the more it will slip away, since I don't sleep anymore, so there's no escaping to that better world.  
  
They're all so hard to watch. Hope is another four-letter word, although here, it's not a bad one, just one that doesn't apply. Willow is wild with her power. She's de-ratted Amy, and the two of them are out of control. They do what they want, when they want, and no one had better get in their way. I know of at least three people she's killed, one purposely, the other two accidentally. And I'm pretty sure she's at least peripherally responsible for my own death at Anyanka's hands. Even Amy's a little scared of her. I know I would be, if she could still kill me.  
  
Tara hasn't looked up from the ground in a long time. I have the top of her head memorized. Willow doesn't even seem to love her or care about her anymore, but she refuses to let her go. The power trip thing again. Tara's a mere shell of herself, and she was never a strong personality to begin with. She used to argue with Willow once in a while, but after Wills lured back Oz just so she could torture and kill him, Tara's watched her words pretty carefully. He was the one on purpose. I'm not totally sure the other two were just accidents, but I'd like to give her the benefit of our long friendship and the doubt. Even if I could talk to her so she could hear, I don't think I could reach her anymore.  
  
But poor Tara is no more than a glorified servant girl. Her free will is pretty much gone now. Any time she shows the slightest rebellion, Willow magics it out of her. I've seen puppets allowed more freedom. And she's scared. She knows her days are numbered, I think. And if I could, I'd try to save her. I'd at least give her someone to talk to, someone who loved the Willow that used to be as much as she did. But I can't even offer that cold comfort.  
  
Dawnie is descending into a pit of delinquency, trying desperately to do something bad enough to catch Buffy's attention again. But Buffy is, by far, the worst of a bad lot.  
  
God, I hate Spike. But even he's worried about her. When he isn't gloating over the fact that he's turning the Slayer to his side, that is. I think he's worried because he knows he isn't - she'd have to respond to him for that, and outside of sleeping with him, she doesn't react to anything in any way anymore. She's still slaying, fervently but without emotion. I'm surprised Dawn can't see me - if you took Buffy's example, you'd think the poor girl was a ghost like I am, for all she notices her. Spike says Buffy responds to him physically, but she won't even fight with him these days. And trust me, the last thing I want to do is talk with Spike about his sex life with Buffy, but he is the only person I know that can hear me, so I don't have a lot of choice, unless I want to exist in total silence. He knows how much it bugs me, though, and never fails to rub it in.  
  
I remember having hope before, that somehow she'd gotten out of here and gone to that good-place Sunnydale - the one I guess I dreamed. But then she showed back up, and she was cold and dead like the creatures she goes after. Like the one she's making it with. And that was when my hope died. It was true after all, what I'd said to her in anger all those years ago - you had to be dead to make it with her. First Angel, now Spike. Finally, now that I'm dead too and qualified to make Buffy's Top Ten list, she can't see me or hear me or touch me. Sometimes, I hate her, too.  
  
All this thinking about hopelessness is making me feel physically ill. Honestly, my body, or shade, or whatever, feels like it's being pressed all around - inside and out. The world is spinning, and this is way more than emotional upset, or even a total breakdown. Something really weird is going on.  
  
I must have passed out. I know I can do that - I have before. But what I can't do is feel warm, and right now I do. I've felt cold since I died, but I'm not. I shiver anyway, and a cool draft hits me afterwards, just to prove my point. I feel arms around me. I feel. I FEEL!  
  
"Shhh. It's okay. You're home," Buffy's voice is cooing into my ear. Buffy? Buffy doesn't coo. Not to me - not even when I was alive and she occasionally noticed me. Somebody's sitting behind me, propping me up and stroking my hair from my forehead, and I'm not just warm, I'm soaked in sweat. Ghosts don't sweat.  
  
I must be dreaming. Warm, and Buffy - both are things that I can't ever know again. Another voice speaks, and it's somebody else that can't possibly be here. "Xander," Giles says, "You may be a bit disoriented, but it will be fine. Just relax."  
  
I refuse to open my eyes. This is a dream, and I haven't had one for so long, I don't want it to end. Buffy is cooing to me, I'm warm, and Giles isn't in England leaving us all to flounder. I can feel someone touching me, and even if it's in a dream, I'm not going to even hope it's Buffy. And - oh, God, I just realized I'm naked. Starting to take on slightly nightmare-ish qualities, here. Although, Buffy touching me, me naked - I haven't had one of *those* dreams in a really long time. And Giles hasn't ever been in them before. I'm afraid I've gotta open my eyes now.  
  
Somebody's screaming like a girl, and I just became coherent enough to realize it's me. I've turned around and, yes, I can see it's Buffy holding me, and I am indeed naked, but I don't give a crap since I'm clutching her and trying to crawl inside her skin before it gets me. "Get it away. It hurts," I'm screaming, and I can feel in surroundsound every torture, every pain, and I can almost smell the blood. It may *look* like Anya again, but it did last time, too, at first. And if I can feel again, it can do it all to me again. I don't want to die, even if I'm not really alive, and that didn't make any sense.  
  
Can't think, can't breathe. Wait, I don't need to breathe, do I? Doesn't matter - it's gonna get me, and  
  
"Anya, I think you'd better leave for a while. You seem to be upsetting him."  
  
Giles voice is so calm. Doesn't he know she's a killer? She's not Anya! He needs to be careful - I thought I saw Willow, too, before I lost it. They're even more dangerous together. "She's Anyanka," I whisper pitifully into Buffy's shoulder. I've given up trying to hide inside of her, and she's still holding me in her lap, patting and stroking my back, making soothing noises, and this is all so weird.  
  
"Xander," Buffy says softly once she thinks I've calmed down enough, "You're back home. You've been in Hell."  
  
Well, yeah. I'm dead, and my own girlfriend-turned-demon killed me painfully, and the people I love are all self-destructing, and the only person I can talk to is an evil vampire who's sleeping with the girl I've secretly adored forever, and.  
  
Oh, wait, I think she means literally. She's going on.  
  
"Don't you remember? You went there to save me, to tell me that Willow was doing a spell and to help bring me back. You never got to me, and we lost you there. She brought me back, but we lost you. But we finally found you again. It's okay, you're home."  
  
Home.  
  
If I can really believe that, it's one four-letter word that may have redeemed its reputation.  
  
~**~ 


	6. If We Could Only Find the Words

If We Could Only Find The Words Story 6 in the "Words" Series By Lori Bush  
  
~**~ Feedback: lwbush@charter.net  
  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.  
  
Summary: When your entire reality shifts, it's good to have a friend.  
  
Pairing: None, although hints of B/X.  
  
Rated: PG-13, one word could push it to R, but maybe not.  
  
Continuity: Through "Once More, With Feeling" plus slight spoilers of what's next.  
  
Author's Notes: All good series' must come to an end, right? This story switches POV between Buffy and Xander, but it should be pretty clear who it is talking when they are.  
  
This follows "Famous Last Words," "Word To The Wise," and "Truer Words Never Spoken," and "The Words We Never Said," and "Four Letter Words." It might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read them, since some things that aren't exactly fleshed out here are explained there. This completes the set - collect 'em all. The title of this story was lifted nearly intact from a G/J story by the talented and awesome Melissa Flores, who used to write X/C stories, as well. Thanks, Misty.  
  
Nobody bashed, and everybody bashed, again, sort of. Remember, the same people inhabit both realities, so it's a little hard to define actual bashing in this one.  
  
Dedication: To Jen (Saturn Girl) at the Dead Xander list, 'cos she got me thinking about it in the first place. And of course, the Harem always gets recognition.  
  
~**~  
  
I'm watching Xander sleep. He does that a lot these days - he said he couldn't as a ghost, and he missed it, so he's making up for lost time. But he also couldn't eat, or touch things or talk so anyone else could hear him, and he isn't doing all that to extremes now. Just sleeping. I think it's an escape for him.  
  
I can't say I blame him. If I had a safe place to hide and sort everything out, I'd do it as much as I could, too. But I do. I do have a safe place. He's just asleep right now.  
  
It took quite a while to calm him down, that day we brought him back. He clung to me, sweaty and incoherent, for a very long time. He did finally let Giles wrap him in a blanket. I knew something was wrong when Xander didn't freak about being naked with everyone looking at him, but then, it's not like I thought everything would be fine. We'd just rescued him from Hell, and I know firsthand how traumatic an experience that can be.  
  
I just didn't know how traumatic *his* experience there had been. I thought mine was bad, but his may have been worse. At least I felt that there was good I could have done there, if I'd bothered to make the effort. There was nothing he could do. He was watching every nightmare he'd ever had, and more than a few that were too twisted for him to ever consider, and not a soul could see or hear him trying to stop it all. Well, except Spike, who, I know better than anyone else, wasn't going to be any help, the way things were in that place.  
  
Xander still hasn't told us nearly everything. We know now it was Anyanka that killed him, which also explains his major freak-out when he saw Anya upon his return. He's been a little skittish around Willow and Amy, too, which I'm pretty sure means that Wills got even worse after I left. And he insists I was there all along, which probably means Hell supplied him with a Buffy that was equally painful for him to watch after I came back here. But when he sleeps, his face is peaceful and unlined. It seems he doesn't have the nightmares I do, which is good. The hardest part for him is when he's awake. Which he will be soon - I know the signs. Yeah, I do watch him sleep a lot.  
  
~**~  
  
Before my eyes open, I can sense she's here. "Buffy?"  
  
"Hey Xan." I peer up and there she stands. I wonder how long she's been there. She's here a lot when I wake up. I think the sleeping thing is starting to worry her a little, and that makes me smile. She's been paying attention. "Feeling better?"  
  
And the thing is, I finally am, a little. When I first got back, I kept forgetting that this was real and all that had been, well, not. Nothing there was real except me, and for a while, just as I was getting there, Buffy. I kept walking into stuff I expected to walk through, and I avoided trying to touch people, forgetting it wasn't futile anymore. I'd forget to eat. But if I slept, it all went away, and I wasn't anywhere to be confused. I was just - sleeping. I like that a lot. So I sleep a lot.  
  
I think I may try to stay up all the rest of the day today. It really is getting better. "Yeah, better," I reassure her, sitting up on the edge of the bed and combing my hair with my fingers. "I'm kinda hungry, too."  
  
She smiles at that. She's been fussing over my eating habits, too. I understand, though. We have this connection now - nothing like the one I thought I had with Faith, but something soul deep. We'd both been there, and managed to make it back. She understood more than the others about adjusting to the real world again.  
  
They all try, and I do love them for it. I admit Anya was a bit angry at my initial reaction, which didn't make it much easier for me to be around her. I kept expecting her to go all vein-faced and start ripping parts off me, which made me a tad cold in her presence. Which fed her anger, which frightened me even more, and so forth. Giles finally got the story out of Buffy (I really could hardly tell *her* - I'd have never gotten through it with any of the others), and once he explained to An, she felt guilty and began avoiding me in order to make me more comfortable. Which made me uncomfortable, too. We couldn't seem to get it right. It still isn't, quite, but we're getting there. It helps to see her all couple-y with Giles, which is so not Anyanka that it soothes me. We'll work it out.  
  
Once I got it through my head that I could touch people and they'd respond, I began doing it a lot. I think I may have freaked Tara a little with all the hugging, but Dawn's loved it. And I've noticed Buffy pets on her little sister more now, too. Buffy was the one that got me to touch people again, after all. She's always brushing back my hair, or holding my hand. I'm not sure she even realizes she's doing it, but it makes me feel more - solid - somehow. If I'm real to her, maybe I'm really real.  
  
Willow, well, that person there just wasn't Willow. I always knew that. Looked like her, but wasn't. This was and is. 'Nuff said.  
  
"So," I look up at her and smile brightly, realizing I've been silent for an inappropriate length of time, "Food?"  
  
~**~  
  
It's good to see him eating. It's good to see him doing anything, anytime. I was shocked at how much I missed him when he was gone, and I still am when I realize how protective of him I've become. I practically smother him.  
  
He wouldn't go back to the apartment, which makes perfect sense to me. Remember, I found his body, and know how much he was tortured. I can understand why he wouldn't want to sit down to lunch at the table he bled to death all over, looking at the same things he saw as he died. We ran an ad, and sub-let it in nothing flat. It was a really nice apartment; it was just the mental pictures of it that sucked. He's living here with us now, in my room. And no, it's not that way - I'm sleeping in Dawn's room, in her other twin. We were going to put Xander in with Giles, but after some thought and discussion (the latter mostly from Anya, who objected to that plan strenuously, even though when Giles stays with her, it's at her place, both for my sake and Dawn's), we decided this would work better.  
  
Xander quit his job to come after me, and I've already informed him he won't go back until *I* think he's ready. Apparently, his boss saw him in the mall last week, and is bugging to have him return, but I want to be sure he's okay, all the way, first. I'd hate for something to happen to him when I wasn't around to help. I've spoken to the man, covering with the story Giles and I concocted about Xander having hit his head and suffering from blackouts. The therapist that Dawn saw is willing to write us a medical excuse to that effect, since Xander's seeing her now, too. So am I - Giles' idea.  
  
She's tried to get me to talk about my feelings for Xand. I can't. I think I'm still afraid of hurting him any further - I'm sure he isn't ready for that kind of thing yet. Although I'm not totally sure what kind of "thing" I'm talking about here, either.  
  
See, I'm pretty sure he loved me, before. But I, for one, know how much trauma like he's been through can affect a person's emotions, and I also know, from some of the things he's said and some of the unguarded reactions I've noticed, that the Buffy that replaced me was a real case. Not that I wasn't, while I was there, but it's a safe bet she was even worse. Still, Dr. Michaelson says we should share together, since we both survived, so.  
  
"Xan? Can we talk about, you know. It?" Smooth, Buffy. He stops, his spoon frozen in the air and tomato soup dripping back into the bowl, a look of resigned surprise on his face. Then the surprise fades, leaving just the resignation, and he nods slowly, lowering the spoon and swiping at his face with the napkin.  
  
~**~  
  
Don't know why that surprises me. Dr. Michaelson told me we should talk about the whole thing, and I'm sure she's said the same thing to Buffy. I guess I just thought I'd have longer to sort out what I felt and how to tell her about it. "What do you want to know?" I ask, and God, my voice sounds hollow. She shrugs, which I guess means she wants to know it all. I'm not sure if I'm dragged down by reliving that time, or by having to tell her the truth about some of what happened. 'Cos I don't know if I can make the sounds that would form the words that will express how awful it was.  
  
I know she knows, at least some. She's the only one who can, who was really there. She met those people who were and weren't our friends all at the same time, so she can relate to all the externals I dealt with. But she's never known how I felt before - not really. And that was even when I had good and positive feelings. I don't know how to tell her I blamed her for so much of what went on there, even knowing now it wasn't really her, but my very own Hell-built custom-designed Buffy. But I'm also aware, knowing what I do about the others and how they were there, that there was the seed of the real thing inside, and that's why it was so painful. If I dig deep, I can even admit that that Willow could exist in my Willow. I know she's in there. This Willow just has better support and a stronger moral compass.  
  
"I hated you." She looks like I slapped her. Damn. All that time of being able to say whatever I was thinking and nobody hearing me weakened my already fragile mind-to-mouth filter. Stuff just pops out sometimes. "I mean, not you - her. The one there. And only sometimes." Okay - I'm in it now. Might's well go down all three times. I'll do my best to be gentle. "You, she, whoever- you didn't care about anyone. You kept defending Willow, and you wouldn't listen when I tried to tell you she was over her head. You only cared about Dawn when it was convenient or a crisis. You didn't pay enough attention to me to know I was freaking about marrying Anya, which was what drove her to kill me. You fucking *slept* with *Spike*. It was Angel all over again, but worse - way worse. I loved you, you know - it was part of what pissed Anyanka off. Once I was dead, my body was there for *three days* before you so much as noticed I was gone and found me." I slam my fist down on the table, and tomato soup goes flying from the bowl, decorating my white t-shirt in bloody-looking splotches. "You let me die because *you* wanted to die. And then I was of no use to anyone." I will not cry; I *will* not cry. I will *not* cry. Oh, God, I forgot all about being gentle.  
  
~**~  
  
Every word out of his mouth is like a body blow. I know he has all those false memories of the Xander that was there in my hell before he got there, but the feelings they evoke are all his. And he's crying, because even with all that pain he's carrying, I can tell he didn't want me to know, that he wanted to protect me from his own feelings. He's always tried to protect me. I realized that before we brought him back. And I know he's completely right about me - that's why I can't let him slip away, can't let him block his feelings here like I did there, which led to me becoming the Buffy he hated. I've spent most of our relationship pushing Xander away - it's time I pulled him closer so he can heal properly.  
  
"You're right," I tell him softly, and tentatively reach to touch his hand. My touch makes him jump, and I can see on his face that he wasn't expecting *that* response. He's wide-eyed, tear-stained and there are nasty red blotches of soup all over his face and shirt. I realize that this is what he probably looked like when Anyanka began her torture, and I shudder involuntarily. Gotta regroup for a minute.  
  
"I thought I'd been in heaven, and you guys had pulled me out. I never once thought about how much you were left with to deal with, how much you and Willow and Dawn and even Spike were hurting. I'd been at peace, or so I believed, and so *I* had the right to hate being back. Spike fed that feeling in me, so instead of going to the people that could make it better, I selfishly chose to turn to the one who made it worse. It justified my pain. I couldn't think straight there. It's part of the whole deal."  
  
He's not crying anymore - that's good. "Yeah," he says gruffly. "I couldn't either." I slip my fingers between his, stroking the back of his hand with my free one.  
  
"I'm not going for excuses here, Xan. I made plenty of bad mistakes before I did my portal drop, too. I was wrong in what I did there, and even though lots of it was before you showed up in Hell, you got blessed with the fallout. Part of the still bad is that I now see clearly everything I could have done differently, and I have nightmares about it every night." It's true, too. Dawn's threatened more than once since Xander moved in to make me sleep on the couch, since I moan and thrash and wake her up.  
  
"I don't dream. It's all going on like a film loop in my head all the time I'm awake, though. It really is getting better." I see him starting to really process what he'd said before. "Buff, I'm sor."  
  
"No!" I snap, more harshly than I'd intended, and he tries to pull his hand away, but I won't let him. I take a minute to soften my tone. "Don't say you're sorry you said all that. You needed to. I needed you to. Neither of us can get better if we don't let all the poison out of the wounds."  
  
"What did I do to you?" he asks after a few minutes semi-uncomfortable silence, and I'm puzzled by the question. He can tell. "I mean, we hurt you by pulling you out of heaven," he explains, "or at least you thought so, but that wouldn't be enough torture, by the standards of whatever it is that runs that place. I must have done something else."  
  
I consider not answering this. Admitting what I felt could open doors I'm not sure I'm ready to walk through. But not answering takes me right back to my nightmares, or even further, back to my freshman year in college when I pushed Xander right into Anya's arms when I thought I was too good to hang with a townie. Of course, not long after that, I decided I was too good to hang with anyone from my old bunch, and nearly got myself killed by the freaking Initiative for my conceit. It probably all started then, if I were totally honest. And I'm not going to do that again. The nightmare began when I pushed him away, and I need him so much more now, or maybe I just finally know how much I've always needed him.  
  
"You were happy, or at least you looked happy, with Anya. When I found out you were getting married, it was like the last nail in the coffin. I never would say I wanted you, but I couldn't deal with the fact that she had you. I thought I'd lost you permanently - then you died, and even any slight hope I still had died with you." It's not fair, the next statement I have to make, but I have to say what I felt, or his own emotional outpouring is cheapened. "You left me," I whisper, as reluctant to put it on him as he was to blame his suffering on me.  
  
~**~  
  
My arms are out to hold her even as she's crawling into my lap. We've never admitted out loud before how much we need each other. There's no going back now. "I'll never leave you." She curls up against my chest and I'm stroking her hair. I've said that before, I could swear, but never when I was so sure she heard me. "Hell can't hurt us anymore when we've faced the demons inside, can it?"  
  
"We're not out of the woods yet," she murmurs, muffled by my dirty t-shirt, and then she giggles a little. "Can I just sleep here? This feels so good."  
  
I think she's joking, until she goes all quiet for a bit, and then starts breathing deeply and evenly. She said she'd been having nightmares, so she probably hasn't slept well for a long time. I'm not sure if I should just sit here and hold her until she wakes up, or take her up and tuck her in her bed. Finally I decide on a compromise, and carry her carefully out to the sofa, which is a hell of a lot easier on my back than the kitchen chair. If I nestle into the corner, it's quite comfortable. She snuggles a bit more deeply into my chest as I settle in.  
  
We're *not* out of the woods yet. We've said a lot of things, but danced around saying others. I'm not sure if the others are ready to be said. But we've stepped off a ledge into a new world of honesty and trust, and we've done it together. I'm thinking that the opposite of hell isn't necessarily heaven, but just the right attitude about real life. I can live with that, if Buffy can.  
  
~**~ 


End file.
